Hogan's Heroes: What Papa Bear Doesn't Know
by Basketballgirl Kaitlin
Summary: The guys decide to throw a little party while Hogan goes away to London for one night. What could possibly go wrong? For 2019 Short Story Speed Writing Challenge.


**A/N:** Howdy, folks. This is my first year doing this short story speed writing event, so I was a little apprehensive about participating. I'm not a particularly fast writer these days, so speed writing is a whole new ballgame to me. I'd like to make three special shout outs to some awesome peoples (bad grammar intended). First, two my awesome friend L.E. Wigman for continuously supporting me and just being an amazing person. I don't know how many times we've stayed up late at night bouncing ideas back and forth off of each other. Second, I want to thank katbybee for giving me my story's title. She suggested it on Facebook, and I just about died when I saw it. I had to use it, it was just too good. Last, and certainly not least, my amazing beta reader for this story Abracadebra. I freaking love the edits you made. It made this story ten times better. You freaking ROCK! Alright, enough rambling. Onto the story. The quote I chose to use is in bolded letters. Enjoy! :D

* * *

Colonel Robert Hogan, dressed in his service uniform and lugging a suitcase, made his way toward the fake bunk with his men trailing behind him as he made one final status check before heading to London for one night. His commanding officer, General Alfred Berkman, had ordered a top secret meeting with Papa Bear regarding a new military plan the Allies were planning and had requested his presence to review ideas, tactics, and orders. (1)

"Coffee pot hidden?" Hogan asked.

"Check," Newkirk said, with a nod.

"Maps tucked away?"

"Roger, Sir," Kinch said.

"Code book locked up?"

"You betcha, boy. Sir," Carter said.

"No wild schemes in mind while I'm away?"

"_D'accord_," LeBeau said, before doing a double take. "What a minute, what?"

"Don't you 'what' me, LeBeau. I saw the way you and Newkirk were looking at each other last night when I told you about my leave. I know you two want to live it up while I'm gone," Hogan answered, finally turning to face the four of his teammates.

"What, us? Live it up? Celebrate? Without your permission? Gov'nor, I'm hurt," the English corporal said, feigning offense.

"We would _never_ carry on in any way while you were gone, _mon Colonel_," LeBeau added, batting his large brown eyes.

"Yeah," Carter said. "Why would we throw some cool party and not have you here to enjoy it with us?"

"You're not helping," Newkirk answered, turning to the young sergeant with a warning glare.

Hogan shook his head and sighed.

"Just behave while I'm gone," he pleaded. "No parties."

"Don't worry, Colonel," Kinch said. "I'll make sure they stay in line while you're away."

"Good," Hogan said with relief. "I'll be back first thing in the morning, but feel free to radio London if something comes up."

"Yes, Sir," Hogan's men answered in unison.

Hogan gave all of them one last smile before waving so long and disappearing into the tunnel.

Kinch shut the bunk bed entrance when his commander vanished from sight, then turned to face the others. Newkirk turned to LeBeau and exchanged eager glances.

"All right, Louis, let's get this party started, mate!" the Englishman cried.

"Hold it," Kinch said, holding his hand up. "You heard the Colonel. No parties while he's away."

"Aw, come on, Kinch. It's just a little one. No one more than the guys in here," Newkirk pleaded.

"Colonel Hogan's orders were no parties. Period. If he came back and found out we threw a party while he was gone, he'd never leave us unattended again. Probably get Schultz to watch us or something."

"We will not call it a party, then," LeBeau said. "We will call it a, how do you Americans say it, a social gathering."

"Yeah, just a little Barracks Two get-together. Nothing more," Newkirk added.

"And how do you plan on explaining all of this to Klink? If he finds out about this, he'll _instantly_ shut this thing down," Kinch said, crossing his arms.

"Don't worry about him, mate. I slipped him enough sleeping pills in his brandy that he won't wake up till tomorrow morning. He won't know a thing," Newkirk assured him.

Kinch let out a breath of air and shook his head.

"You guys aren't gonna give up on this, are you?"

"No," LeBeau answered.

"Not really, no," Newkirk said.

The radioman sighed, but gave in.

"All right. We'll have this little get-together of yours. On three conditions."

"What are they?" Carter asked, who had remained silent through most of this conversation.

"First, it's not a party. It's just the guys here in the barracks. No other guests allowed," Kinch began.

"Second?" Newkirk asked.

"It has to stay absolutely quiet. Nothing that will get one of the guards to come barging in on and shutting everything down."

"And third?" LeBeau asked.

"Everything must stay under control at all time."

* * *

Hours had passed since Kinch's orders were given, and it was almost ten o'clock at night. The party had been in full swing for half an hour now, and it was far from under control. Tipsy prisoners were dancing on the table and singing terribly to the songs blasting from the record player. Empty bottles of brandy and other alcoholic beverages were scattered throughout the barracks. There was shouting, cheering, and chanting. A wasted Olsen had started a conga line around the main room.

Word of the party somehow managed to spread, because prisoners from Barracks Three and Barracks Five had joined in the fun. Barracks Two now looked and sounded like more like a nightclub than a lodging. One guy from Barracks Three was so drunk that he had begun to hit on one of the bunk poles as if it were a hot blonde.

Hogan's second-in-command stormed over to Newkirk, who was dancing and smoking a cigarette as he watched the others cavort.

"Newkirk, this is _not_ what I meant when I said 'under control at all times'." Kinch hissed.

"They ain't hurting anybody. Look at how much fun they're having," Newkirk said, gesturing to the mass of bodies swaying in front of them.

"This isn't having fun; they're acting like wild animals."

"Everybody jump!" Olsen shouted.

All the residents in Barracks Two, besides Kinch and Newkirk, did as commanded, and the whole barracks shook in response. Kinch and Newkirk tumbled to the ground, the sergeant giving his subordinate a cold glare. Newkirk swallowed.

"Okay, maybe it's a _little_ out of hand," he said.

As the two got to their feet, the door to the barracks flew open, and Schultz barged inside to see what all the ruckus was about. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped at the scene before him, and he gasped. He spotted Kinch and Newkirk and quickly made his way to the duo, his body jiggling with fear.

"Sergeant Kinchloe, what is all of this?" Schultz asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Oh, just a little get together is all. Nothing too spectacular," Kinch said, hoping to get the rotund guard outside as quickly as possible.

"_Little_?" Schultz exclaimed. "There are people on top of the table."

"A little science experiment, Schultzie. Nothing more," Newkirk said with a dismissive wave.

"Uh, guys," Carter said, coming out of Hogan's room with LeBeau trailing from behind. "We have a little situation on our hands."

"And what might _that_ be?" Kinch asked, sounding more like an order.

"Someone went into the Colonel's bedroom and uh…kind of uh…sort of…broke something," the young sergeant said, struggling to get the words out.

"Broke what?"

LeBeau hesitated for a moment, but eventually showed his friends a shattered picture frame containing a photograph of Hogan and Tiger together, taken during one of their late night outings. The sight was enough to make both Kinch and Newkirk squeal with horror.

"That was the Gov'nor's birthday present from Tiger last year!" Newkirk exclaimed.

"More like a pile of garbage now," LeBeau said, shuddering each time he looked at the shattered memory. It had been Hogan's favorite possession in camp, reminding him of the few good times he had experienced in Germany. Now it was nothing but in ruins.

"Wait a minute," Schultz said, pointing at what he could still see in the broken and cracked glass. "Who is that lady with Colonel Hogan?"

"His, uh, sister," Newkirk answered. "Wanted to make sure her big brother got a birthday present. Very sentimental, she is."

"Oh, for a minute there I was very…" Schultz's eyes widened as he got a closer look at the background behind Hogan and the pretty blonde. Beer mugs, officers, and soldiers of the Wehrmacht, Gestapo personnel! This was not some place back in America. It was a place right there in Germany—a place he knew like the back of his hand: the Hofbrau. "This is the Hofbrau in Hammelburg. How…" Schultz paused as he saw the glances the men were exchanging with one another.

Schultz closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I see _noooooothing_, I know nothing," he cried, making his way to the barracks door. When it shut softly behind him, Kinch looked to the young sergeant in front of him.

"Carter, please tell me you can fix this before the Colonel gets home," he said.

"I can _try_, but I don't know if I'll do any good. I'll be lucky enough just to save the _picture_ from getting damaged."

"Bloody hell, this just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it," Newkirk grumbled to himself.

"Well, maybe we can think of a good excuse. We could tell him we were going over maps or something and accidentally knocked it off his desk. He's gotta understand _that_," Carter suggested.

"**That would mean I would have to **_**die**_** first,"** LeBeau said, his arms crossed.

"I think you mean 'lie,' LeBeau," Carter countered.

"Just get on it before the Colonel comes home. We've got three hours before his plane is supposed to touch down," Kinch said, his normally calm voice veering toward a plea.

"Yes, Kinch," Carter answered, taking the picture frame back to Hogan's room with careful handling.

"And uh…Garlotti may or may not be skinny dipping off the roof with a few other men from Barracks Five," LeBeau said.

"_Skinny dipping_?" Newkirk exclaimed. "Skinny dipping into _what_?!"

Before the little Frenchman could answer, they all heard someone shout 'cannon ball' from outside followed by a loud splash of water.

"An inflatable pool?" LeBeau replied.

"You let them go outside? You realize what'll happen when the guards see them out there?" Kinch asked.

LeBeau licked his lips and looked off to the side, making the radioman close his eyes and let out a long sigh.

"They're skinny dipping with our guys, aren't they."

"Maybe _un petit peu_," the French corporal answered, spacing his pointer finger and thumb just millimeters apart from each other. (2)

"All right, you and Baker go out there and put a stop to that. Newkirk and I will stay here and try to get everyone to calm down," Kinch ordered.

"_Oui, _Kinch."

LeBeau walked off to find Baker in the chaos that was currently their barracks, leaving Kinch and Newkirk to themselves.

"Newkirk, this party ends _now_," the sergeant said.

"I couldn't agree with you more, mate," Newkirk said. The Englishman made his way over to his and Carter's bunk, turned around to face everyone, and shouted over the loud music and singing. "Gentlemen, gentlemen! I'm thrilled to know you're all enjoying the party, now I hope you all enjoy _leaving_ the party. If you would all just follow me over here, and we'll be on our waaaaaaaaaah!" He jumped back and screamed as he saw Hogan standing in front of the tunnel entrance with a cold glare.

"Everybody not from this barracks outside for the escape committee meeting," Kinch said, gesturing to the door. He doubted Hogan would fall for the flimsy excuse, but it was worth a shot. Anything to make the situation look to be not what it seemed.

All the men simply stood there and stared at Kinch blankly. Either they were drunk or stubborn and unwilling to leave the party just yet.

"Dammit," Newkirk said softly. It was then a dead light bulb resurrected itself and turned on in his head. "Hey everybody, first one in the compound gets a date with Fräulein Hilda!"

Like a stampede of buffalo, all the guys from Barracks Three and Five bolted from Barracks Two, almost trampling Newkirk and Kinch. Olsen, bringing up the rear, attempted to make a run for it, but the staff sergeant held out his arm in front of his friend.

"Not you," Kinch said firmly.

Olsen frowned and hung his head as he walked off to clean up the empty glass bottles scattered throughout the room.

"Colonel," Newkirk said, sheepishly stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. "How was your meeting?"

Hogan did not answer. He continued to gape at his men in agonizing silence. _Everybody_ grew apprehensive when Hogan was silent. It was a clear indication that the Colonel was livid. _Extremely_ livid. Livid enough to send everybody to a rank lower than private.

"I know it looks bad, Sir," Newkirk began, holding his hands out. "But I can promise you it's not what you think it is."

"It looks like all of you threw a party after I gave strict orders _not_ to," Hogan finally barked.

"…Okay, it's what you think it is."

Hogan cocked his head slightly to the left, his glare hardening. His 'I'm in no mood for wisecracks' glare. As he was about to continue, the door to the barracks opened, and a sopping wet LeBeau and Baker made their way inside. They spit out mouthfuls of water, then turned to Kinch and Newkirk with their arms crossed.

"What happened to _you_ two? Looks like you were just dropped in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean," Kinch said.

"It took two threats of telling the Colonel and one threat of telling the _Kommandant _before they agreed to pack up that pool," Baker answered.

"And tomorrow morning at roll call, I cannot guarantee that I will stop myself from ratting you all out to Klink," LeBeau added, with a sneer.

"_Us_ out! You're the bloomin' one who thought it would be fun to throw a party!" Newkirk snapped.

"It was _both_ of you who wanted to throw this stupid party to begin with," Kinch said.

"And who's the one that gave us consent to do so?" Baker asked.

At that point, the core team members were in a yelling match with one another. With one hollering over the other, it was mere impossible to comprehend what they were saying to each other—or, more precisely, _screaming_ to each other. As the fracas escalated, Hogan's temper soared.

"QUIET!" he hollered over them.

His core team fell silent, turned to face Hogan, and froze when they saw the reddish tint coming to their commander's face.

"You're _all_ in the wrong for this. And Klink isn't even the worst part. You realize what would have happened had Hochstetter barged in here on all of this? If he found out I was missing after curfew, we _all_ would be paying the consequences for it!" Hogan bellowed.

Newkirk hung his head and began to rub the back of his neck.

"We never thought of that possibility, Sir," he answered softly.

"No, you _didn't_," Hogan snapped.

As Kinch was about to speak, the five of them all heard a loud 'OW' come from Hogan's room. It was Carter.

Forgetting their current conversation, everyone hurried to the small, private room in the corner of barracks two and stepped inside to find Carter shaking his finger and putting it to his mouth every now and then.

"What happened?" Baker asked.

"Some stupid shard of glass cut my finger," the young sergeant answered, before turning his eyes back to his finger. His eyes widened as a stream of blood started to make its way down his hand. "I'm bleeding. I'm bleeding. Kinch, make it stop! Why won't it stop?!"

"It's your finger, that's why," the staff sergeant said, and escorted Carter to Hogan's bed to tend to the injury.

Before LeBeau could look over to see what was wrong, Newkirk clapped his hand over the Frenchman's eyes.

Baker walked over to his fellow sergeants. "Did you get it fixed, Carter?" he softly whispered.

"The frame has a few dents in it, but the glass is gone," Carter pulled out the picture from inside his jacket with his left hand, while his right one was being disinfected and bandaged. "I was able to save the picture, though."

"_What_ picture?" Hogan asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow at all of them.

Baker let out a shaky breath of air, gently grabbed the photograph from Carter's hand, and slowly walked to his commander to give him what remained of his special belonging.

"Carter did all he could, Sir," he said. "He was lucky to save the photo from any harm, but the frame is completely gone."

Hogan cautiously took the photo from the sergeant, looked down at it, and the color drained from his face. It was the birthday present Tiger had gotten him last year. That special night under the stars and strolling casually through the forest, the special gift he had received from his love that reminded him of that magical night…all that remained was the picture. The golden frame that had protected it from dust and scratches now lay in a heaping pile of junk on his desk. Broken, fragmented, shattered, and demolished. Tiger's heartfelt gift was now nothing more but a memory.

At first, tears welled in the Colonel's eyes, his heartache clearly displayed within them. He had no idea when he would see that beautiful woman again, and her present had been the only thing to connect him to her until then. His expression was almost instantly replaced with daggered eyes and a bright red countenance as he turned to look at the five men before him, who were all cowering at the intense look on Hogan's face.

"All right, now _that_ wasn't our fault," Newkirk said quickly. "It was that blasted, drunken private from Barracks Three that spent the night dancing with Martha."

"Who's Martha?" Hogan snarled.

The English corporal froze as he was about to speak, let out a breath of air, and began speaking, his voice full of shame. "One of the bunk bed poles out in the main area."

"Great," Hogan said tersely. "That's just great, I got a destroyed barracks and a man madly in love with a bunk bed!"

"We're sorry, Colonel," LeBeau said, for all of them.

"We won't do it again, Sir." Kinch added.

"You're damn right you won't," Hogan answered. "You do something this stupid again, and I'll have all of you facing a court martial!"

"Message loud and clear, Sir," Baker said, hanging his head.

"Now go clean that mess up and pray I don't bust you to Klink tomorrow."

Without a single word, Hogan's team made their way out of his quarters in a single file, the door softly closing behind them. Once alone, the Colonel shook his head in disbelief. He gently put the picture of himself and Tiger for safe keeping in one of his desk drawers, then turned to his bunk to change into his pajamas, when he spotted something odd on one of the bunk poles. He walked towards the two facing the door and saw that someone had drawn a pair of lips with red marker on his bed frame. He looked at it curiously, then closed his eyes and shook his head.

"You know what, I don't even want to know."

* * *

(1) General Alfred Berkman is Hogan's commanding officer and a character I created years ago. His first appearance is in my story "Coming Into the Light".

(2) _un petit peu _\- A little bit


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